(M to Donkey, People to Various)

She flashes you another dazzling smile. Despite her pale skin, her teeth somehow still stand out. They gleam with a shine that would make a dentist fall in love. Of course, she didn’t need that smile to capture your heart. There’s something magical about her, something that you can’t place your finger on.

Though if you did realize what she was… Would you still be here, listening to her?

“-animals, the lot of them. And that’s why I’m in need of expanding the farm,” she finishes. With a sinking feeling, you realize you’ve no idea what she was just talking about. So you smile and nod, and hope to pass it off.

Of course she’d be too smart for that. Her eyes gleam with a playful curiosity. “What’s the matter?”

“You’re not what I’d expected from a farm girl,” you try. While it’s not what distracted you, it’s not a lie either. Rather than sun-bleached hair, freckles, and the kind of muscle that comes from hard work; she’s different.

She’s… Oh God. You forgot her name. Do you reach for your phone and check her profile? Do you just ask? You’ve only been through appetizers so far, not even the main meal. It’s got to be fine to ask.

“Take a look at those two,” she points coyly at a pair of young lovebirds who seem to be putting the all-you-can-eat special to the test. “Pigging out, right?”

“Right,” you agree, glad she’s moved off the subject of your distraction.

Your date presses her finger against her nose, tilting it upward with a quiet snort and a giggle. You laugh at that, especially because of how it’s mirrored on the couple’s noses. Come to think of it, the rest of their faces are awfully piggish too. And how did they get into such ill-fitting clothes?

You watch the blonde stranger’s dress tear as she drops her twitching nose onto her plate, playing a long tongue along the surface in an attempt to clean up some more sauce. Her thighs plump up too, forcing runs to pop through what were once well-fitting nylons.

Or were they well-fitting? You can’t imagine her in anything so slinky. And the same goes for her boyfriend, whose button-down shirt has popped open. His chest is a lot pinker than you’d imagined. You thought that pigs weren’t that shade.

Pigs?

Something about that feels odd to you. You look to your date, only to find she’s been staring at you with that strange smile. You gulp, tearing your attention away from the loud squeals and snorts from the nearby table.

“Something on my face?” you ask.

She laughs, the sound as refreshing as a springtime rain. You’re sure that you want to stay with her, and not question the oddities that have been happening… All night?

Your brow furrows. You definitely remember laughing along as that one woman had turned into a toad. There was something about how she’d gone from insisting she’d reserved your table to croaking. Her tongue had dropped into her swelling cleavage, and she’d slapped at her bulging face with web-like fingers.

But what had that been so funny?

“Try not to think so hard, honey,” she purrs.

With a start, you realize that she hasn’t called you by your name all night either. Maybe she’s forgotten yours too? In that case, it couldn’t possibly be rude to ask.

“Well, do you know my name? Because I’ve kind of forgotten yours.” It sounds dumb coming from your lips, but you have to hope that she won’t be too angry.

To your relief, she smiles. “Well, why would I ever need to learn your name? It’s not like you’ll have it for long.”

Her explanation makes sense, even though something deep in your brain asserts that it shouldn’t. It’s like you’re in a dream, going along with the most nonsensical flow.

“And as for mine… Well, let’s have the little birdie tell you.” She clicks her fingers, and a nearby man starts to flap his arms. He shrinks as if crushed by an invisible vise, and you catch a glimpse of colorful green feathers.

Then a small parrot bursts from his clothing, shaking its head free of some last wispy strands of curly hair. It screeches loudly before landing on your date’s shoulder.

“Riii riii!” It chirps loudly. “Sur siiii!” It flaps its wings in confusion before she shakes it off, letting it find its way out of the restaurant on its own.

You laugh at the casual display of her power, that same sense of unease gnawing at your gut. You try to ignore it and make small talk with her again. “Like from Game of Thrones?”

Her eyes narrow slightly. You dimly become aware of a loud bleating as a waitress behind you turns into a sheep. Should you be worried about her? You feel you should be worried about her.

As you half-turn, you see a panicked woman is already moving to help her. However, the closer she gets, the shaggier she gets. Long white hairs sprout from beneath her skin. She’s soon clad in a veritable mop of fur, and drool spills from her stretching mouth as she starts to bark.

You smile in relief. With a sheepdog around, there’s no way that sheep is in trouble.

She clears her throat. “Like from the Odyssey.”

You realize you’ve been rude to her, and you gulp and turn. “Sorry about that, it’s not really familiar. Is that the one by Ovid?”

“Homer, actually,” she replies icily.

You get the distinct impression that the night has been soured, and that joking would not help your case. Especially if you compared the name to something like from the Simpsons.

“Like the Simpson?” You ask.

Why did you do that? You start to stammer out an apology, but she holds up a hand to shush you.

“I prefer my pets honest. Which means if they think something, they should tell me.” She reaches across the table, pinching one of your ears. Her arm pulls back, and with a sharp tug, your ear stretches like taffy. Long, twitching, gray-furred taffy. You feel your other ear stretch and twitch too.

“Pets?” You gulp. “Something about that word makes me feel…”

The word catches in your throat. You gulp, but it’s like there’s something blocking your windpipe. “Awn. Uhn. Un…”

You can’t breathe. The realization pours over you like an ice shower. You gulp again, hands pawing at your throat. You feel a thin layer of fuzz that decidedly wasn’t there before. You also feel the knot of your Adam’s apple bulging beneath your fingertips.

“Go on then. Out with it.” She – Circe – smiles. Her name flits into your head at the exact moment you finally dislodge the lump in your throat.

“UnEESEEAUWW!” It comes out as a half-word, half-bray. Your ears flick in distress, both from the sound and from the fact that they can move so freely. You almost fall from your chair in horror, barely keeping yourself from falling onto your ass.

“Music to my ears.” She daintily folds her napkin, motioning a waitress over.

“Hawwwlp. Heee. Hawwlp.” Your mangled attempts at speech don’t even seem to bother the woman. She looks a little lost, no doubt ensnared by whatever Circe had just cast upon you.

“Is there something I can do for you, miss?” The waitress asks.

“Yes,” Circe pauses to read her nametag, “Anika. You can pet my new donkey’s muzzle for him. His hooves won’t let him do it himself.”

Hooves? You look down to your hands, a half-brayed whimper sliding up your longer throat. Your fingers are already clumped together, and enamel darkens over them. Warm fingers meet your cheeks, and you look up to see the waitress, Anika, gently rubbing your cheeks.

She seems amused, as though she’s petting a puppy. “What a good boy, what a good, strong jackass.” She mutters.

Your jaw cracks and pops, your nose flares. You wince as your human visage is distorted, pulled away into an asinine reflection. Your teeth ache as they swell thicker and blockier. You play your swelling tongue along your front teeth, wincing at how prominent they are.

Your head is large, but to your surprise and relief your changed neck can easily bear the weight. The thought of being relieved by these changes is enough to pull you back.

“Aw, Anika, he doesn’t like your pets. Sorry, but I guess that means you can’t tend to him any longer.” Circe struts behind the girl, pressing a hand on the girl’s head and pushing.

“What d-iip! Iiip iip iip!” Poor Anika starts squeaking, her trance shattered a moment before her humanity. You watch, helpless, as her nose twitches, as her ears stretch, as her feet burst clear of her shoes only to shrink back into them as she shrinks too.

It only takes seconds to steal her old life away, and replace her with a confused rabbit. She twitches her nose and hops away frantically.

“EUAAW! HEEEHAWWW! HEEEEE!” You try to speak but it only comes out in brays. You don’t know if it’s for the best or the worst that Circe can still understand you.

“Hm? Her brain? No, it’s not at all there. Sorry, sweetie, but I like my animals to be obedient. And obedience is just so hard when they’re trying to get back to their old lives, isn’t it?”

Circe doesn’t give you a chance to reply before changing you further. Your gut aches, like you’ve eaten two full meals. You snort in distress and chuff your thick donkey lips. It doesn’t keep your belly from growing bigger, stretching your pants, snapping your belt.

“You’re going to be a real fat ass.” Circe giggles. “Not that I mind. You’ll work it off soon enough.”

A tiny part of your brain wants to accept her words, wants to enjoy the changes. You’re afraid to admit it might be right, that giving in might make this all enjoyable. Or is that playing into her hands, too? Is she making you a donkey because of your stubbornness?

“Heee-ulp. Awwwr.” You try to speak, but she’s no longer listening to you. She calls over another server, who nearly trips over the bunny that was their coworker. You can’t tell if she was hypnotized to forget the change happening, or if she mercifully didn’t see.

“I’m sorry, could I get the bill?” Circe has that twinkle in her eyes as she asks, and for a moment you really try to warn the new server.

“HEEAUWW! HAWWW!” A bit of spittle flies from your mouth, and you shudder as your belly expands further, pushing you forward onto your gut. Your arms and legs scuff at the floor in a vain attempt to stand.

The server looks to you, surprised. “Is something wrong with your donKWAARK!” Her lips stretch forward into an ungainly beak, and she flaps her hands in shock. Or maybe it’s because her hands are flaring out into wide, white wings. Her changed lips clap shut with a loud clack, and your heart really goes out to her.

However, by now your bodies have long since gone to Circe. She stands from the table, pinching the new duck’s bill shut with a wink in your direction. “Oh, don’t give me that look. You know, you should count yourself lucky. You’re the last one to hold onto your silly little brain.”

You blink, looking from side to side and seeing nothing but animals around you. Actual animals. There’s no longer a trace of human affection in the slovenly pigs that have taken to eating their own clothes. The sheepdog is busy trying to herd the new startled sheep into a corner. Your former servers seem petrified by the cacophony of sound that surrounds you.

“But only for a little bit. In a way, it’s like I loaned it back to you. After all, we both know you were the first one tonight to fall to my charms.” She mimes tugging on an invisible thread.

It’s like your head is getting stuffed with cotton candy. You can feel a numb softness pressing around your brain, and a sobbing bray bursts pas your lips. You don’t even know why it sounded so sad. Maybe because there’s no grass around you? You look up to your owner, your eyes focusing and unfocusing.

You see her, the witch, open a portal to an idle farmstead. You watch from behind your eyes as your body stumbles towards it. A bit of control reasserts itself and you stumble, unused to walking on all fours, falling face-first into the grass.

A bit of it gets into your mouth, and with that the last of your resistance crumbles. You take another bite and another, chowing down on what to you is a delectable meal. Ironically, the old you would have asked your ‘farm girl’ date for a meal back at her place. But the new you has no way of knowing that.

You barely budge as the other animals from the restaurant are ushered into the farm too. The last one out is your new owner, who strokes your ears and says something your simple donkey brain can’t understand.